Bust the Dead
by Thesseli
Summary: The Real Ghostbusters find themselves in big trouble, as well as in the past, when they discover a mysterious artifact. A 'Kill the Dead' crossover.
1. Part 01: Crazed Institution

Title: Bust the Dead   
Author: Thesseli   
Fandom: Real Ghostbusters/Kill the Dead  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters -- I'm just borrowing  
them. No money is being made, and no parapsychologists or dead  
people were harmed in the writing of this fanfic.  
  
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Bust the Dead  
Part One: Crazed Institution  
  
  
  
Dr. Peter Venkman proudly held up the smoking trap, displaying it to the crowd that had   
gathered around himself and his co-workers. "It's all right, folks, we bagged your ghost.   
You can tell the museum manager it's safe to come out."  
  
"Oh thank you," said the flustered little man, dabbing at his forehead with a   
handkerchief. "Whatever can we do to repay you for ridding our beloved museum of this   
horrible menace?"  
  
"Well, you can start by paying our fee," said Peter. "let me see…I'd say that five   
thousand dollars should about cover it." He smiled in an ingratiating manner.   
  
"Oh my," said the manager, clearly not expecting an amount quite so high. "That's a bit   
steep…but if you follow me to my office, I'll make arrangements for the payment. Come   
along."  
  
Peter fell into step behind the balding little man, followed by Dr. Egon Spengler, Dr. Ray   
Stantz, and Winston Zeddemore. The three looked at him dubiously – Peter always   
seemed to enjoy pressing his luck. The figure he had come up with was rather high for   
catching a simple Type 4 Vaporous Apparition, especially since they had destroyed a   
delicate Ming vase, three velociraptor skeletons, and a model of the 'Friendship 7' in the   
process. They had chased it through the entire museum before it was finally caught, and   
Egon was relieved that they had not broken anything else…like the rest of the exhibits.   
"Peter," he whispered. "Maybe we should lower the fee, considering what we did to the   
'Culture and Cuisine' display…"  
  
"Aw, come on, Egon," he broke in. "This is what being a Ghostbuster is all about. Fun   
excitement…you know, the whole ball o' wax."  
  
The parapsychologist's retort was interrupted. "Hey guys, check this out," said Winston,   
catching sight of one of the displays on the way to the manager's office. The others   
stopped, curious, and gathered around the glass case.  
  
"What the heck is that?" asked Ray.  
  
"The weirdest thing I've ever seen, that's for sure," said Winston.  
  
"It is rather odd, isn't it," agreed the manager. "But quite fascinating, wouldn't you   
say?"  
  
"Fascinating isn't the word I'd pick," said Peter. He leaned forward to get a better look   
at the strange object in the case. It appeared to be some form of musical instrument, but   
like nothing he'd ever seen before. He wasn't even sure he could have imagined   
something so bizarre. It was definitely something to do with music, but it most   
resembled an image from a painting by Hieronymous Bosch. It had not one neck but   
two, each with its own set of strings; and it also had the mouthpiece of some sort of reed   
instrument. The wood was inlaid with bits of stone, ivory, and glass; and it was held by   
an elaborately decorated leather strap. In short, Peter thought it looked like something   
straight out of a nightmare…and said so. "What is it, the earliest known example of a   
one-man band?"  
  
"How much do you know about it? Could anyone actually play it?" asked Ray, ever-  
inquisitive as usual.  
  
"I don't really know. This is a new acquisition, and the information hasn't yet arrived   
from London. I myself know that it dates from some time in the Middle Ages; and --   
according to legend -- there was only one man who could play it with any degree of skill,   
and that was the man who'd created it. I'm eager to learn more, but for the moment   
that's all I know."  
  
"Maybe if he'd cut a few records, we'd still be talking about him," joked the dark-haired   
man. "Classical's pretty popular these days, and I'm a bit of a musician myself—"  
  
"There's something else we know about it," said Egon slowly.  
  
"Oh really? What's that, Egon?" asked Ray  
  
"That it's a highly concentrated source of psychokinetic energy," he answered, holding   
up his flashing PKE meter. 


	2. Part 02: Too Old to Rock and Roll, Too Y...

Bust the Dead  
Part Two: Too Old to Rock and Roll, Too Young to Die  
  
  
"Real smart of you to convince the manager to let us borrow the funky banjo, Egon. I   
had no idea that it might cause 'a dangerous supernatural occurrence of an unknown and   
possibly destructive nature'," said Peter, lounging back in a chair at the large table at   
their headquarters. "I didn't think you had it in you to make up neat stuff like that."  
  
Egon tilted his head down and looked at the other man over the lenses of his glasses.   
"It's all in the name of science, Peter. I think the instrument warrants further study -- an   
object with so much paranormal energy attached to it is an amazing discovery."  
  
"What's an amazing discovery?" asked Janine. Their secretary had just walked in, her   
arms laden with groceries. Slimer, their unofficial mascot, floated behind her, peering   
intently at the food. "Slimer, get away. You can have something after we unpack. So   
Egon, what's your discovery?" she asked as she dumped the armload onto the table.  
  
"This intriguing and highly valuable artifact," said Egon, brushing away a few stray   
tomatoes that were rolling in its direction. "It has a PKE reading of astronomical   
proportions."  
  
"It looks like something out of a Twilight Zone episode," she said, her high-pitched   
Brooklyn accent becoming even more nasal with annoyance at Egon's interest in the   
instrument (and not in her, especially in the sexy new outfit she'd bought just to come to   
work in). "Where'd you find that thing, in a crackerjack box?"  
  
"No, at the Danvers Museum," said Egon, missing her sarcasm completely. "I've never   
gotten reading like this from an inanimate object before. Look at this…"  
  
"Egon, you know I don't understand even half of what you say about these gadgets.   
Explain it -- in English." She said down next to him and smoothed the creases from her   
miniskirt.  
  
"If I were getting these readings from a ghost, it would be a Type 13."  
  
Winston gulped. "Do they come that high?"  
  
"Not that I know of," replied Egon. "Except for—"  
  
"Oh please don't bring that up again," sighed Ray. "If it doesn't pertain directly to this   
case, I don't think we should talk about it…besides, how was I to know she was dead?"   
he asked plaintively.  
  
"Have you checked the Spirit Guide?" asked Winston, trying to get back on topic before   
Peter started ribbing their colleague. "Is the instrument or anything like it in there?"  
  
"No…but it should be," said Egon. "Anything with this much psychic energy tied up in   
it must have had an interesting history."  
  
"Interesting," repeated Peter, taking the instrument from his co-worker. "Hey Slimer,   
you like music?" The green apparition nodded enthusiastically and clapped its hands.   
"Then why don't you go get in line for Springsteen tickets? I'm sure they'll be going on   
sale in the next few months…and stop dripping on the table, Spud," he said threateningly.  
  
"Aw Peter, you'll hurt his feelings," said Ray. Slimer made a sound of agreement.  
  
"Sorry, Spud," said Peter absently, turning the double-necked instrument over in his   
hands. "Y'know, the guy who made this must have been on the same stuff as the guy   
who played it." He strummed it a few times experimentally.  
  
"The manger said they were the same person -- Peter, what did you just do?" asked Egon.  
  
"Just this," he said innocently, running his fingers over the strings.  
  
"Ray, Winston, come over here. Do it again, Peter," ordered the other man. Peter   
shrugged and complied. "Look at these readings," said Egon.  
  
"They're off the scale," Ray said in amazement. Janine and Slimer moved behind him so   
that they could watch too.  
  
"This is incredible…an enormous jump in psychokinetic tension…"  
  
"It looked like an exponential increase, and no sign of a plateau…"  
  
Peter wasn't sure about what he was hearing. "You mean to tell me that when I plucked   
a few strings, it made the instruments do *that*? So what would happen if I played   
something else?"  
  
"No, Peter," warned Egon, seeing what the other man was about to do, and unsure of the   
consequences if anything more than a few notes were played. Peter did not seem to hear   
him, for he was looking at the instrument as if it might suddenly come alive; then he   
brought his hand down again and played the first few lines of 'Karn Evil 9'.  
  
The overhead lights began flashing on and off. The room began shaking -- no, it was the   
desk that Peter had so quickly dropped the instrument on after he realized what was   
happening…and that the object in his hands was the cause of it. It was the instrument   
and the table that were shaking, and moving the rest of the room with them. "Oh Egon,"   
wailed Janine, throwing her arms around him as everything finally went dark around   
them. 


	3. Part 03: A New Day Yesterday

Bust the Dead  
Part Three: A New Day Yesterday  
  
  
  
"Egon?"  
  
"Yes Peter?"  
  
"Did I do that?"  
  
"Yes Peter."  
  
"Egon?"  
  
"Yes Peter?"  
  
"What did I do?"  
  
"You mean you haven't opened your eyes yet either?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, why don't you? It's quiet now."  
  
"No it's not, Egon."  
  
"Of course it's quiet, Peter…I can hear the birds singing and the wind rustling the leaves   
on the tree branches."  
  
"Yeah, Egon, that's what I'd like to talk to you about. The birds singing *in our office*   
and the wind rustling the leaves on the tree branches *in our office*."  
  
"You noticed that too?"  
  
"Yes, Egon."  
  
"I think we'd really better open our eyes now…"  
  
"Peter, you blew up the building!" yelled Janine, seeing that they were no longer inside   
the old firehouse; they were instead standing in a clearing in what appeared to be a forest.   
The sun was shining brightly, and the sky was clear and blue with just a few wispy clouds   
above them.   
  
"I don't think so, Janine," said Egon, pulling out several instruments from his pack. "I   
think it more likely that we've been transported to another location."  
  
"So what you're trying to say is that Peter blasted us someplace else," sighed Winston.   
"So how long a walk is it back to the office?"  
  
"Maybe we can catch a cab," said Ray.  
  
"Are you sure we're still even in New York? Look around -- there's no smog, no bums,   
no people getting mugged, and the most wildlife we see in a day are pigeons and a few   
rats if we're *lucky*," said Peter, leaning against a tree. "Hey Egon, you look kinda   
worried."  
  
"Guys…I don't think we're going to have much luck getting a cab."  
  
Slimer whimpered. "I knew it," moaned Winston. "How far away are we?"  
  
"Where are we, Egon…" asked Peter, knowing from the other man's ominous tone that   
he probably would not like the answer.  
  
"Well, if these readings are correct -- and I've already checked them, so don't bother   
asking -- we have experienced a temporal displacement."  
  
"That doesn't help me, Egon…" warned Peter.  
  
"We're somewhere in the Middle Ages," said Egon, very quickly.  
  
"What?!?" Peter sounded ever-so-slightly hysterical.  
  
"The psychokinetic energy held in the instrument must have been powerful enough to   
shoot us back into the past."  
  
"Well…why didn't it take the one-man-band too?"  
  
"I'm not sure…maybe it already exists in this time and it can't be duplicated?"  
  
"Egon, this is not an episode of Star Trek -- this is real life and I want to go home! Are   
you sure we're in the past? Maybe we're just in some section of Central Park that   
nobody goes to."  
  
"Let me take some more readings, but I think you'll find that we are indeed somewhere   
in the Middle Ages. And besides what the instruments say, take a look at the plant and   
animal life. I've already noticed several species that are extinct in the Twentieth Century.   
We're definitely back in time, along with being transported in space…I'm fairly sure that   
we're someplace in Europe."  
  
"It's gonna be a *real* long walk home," said Winston despondently. 


	4. Part 04: Living in the Past

Bust the Dead  
Part Four: Living in the Past  
  
  
Several hours later, the time travelers were still in the clearing in the medieval forest, no   
closer to home than they had been when they'd first arrived. But they hadn't been idle.   
Egon had been busily scribbling calculations on his notepad, Ray had been fiddling with   
all the equipment that had been transported with them, and Peter had gone through   
periods of restless pacing and attempts at relaxation. He was now lying under a tree   
watching the others.  
  
"I think I've found a way to get us home," stated Egon, after a while.  
  
Peter brightened immediately. "You have? That's great!"  
  
"There may be a problem…"  
  
The dark-haired man sighed and leaned back against his tree. "There's always a problem.   
Just tell us your idea."  
  
"My calculations indicate that if we were to re-create the conditions of the original   
psychokinetic occurrence, we would be returned to our proper time and place. However,   
finding a protonic anomaly of Type 13 or higher is extremely unlikely."  
  
Ray grinned. "Egon, I think I've got just what you're looking for…according to these   
readings, the Type 13 energy tied to the instrument is duplicated here, in this time -- and I   
don't mean just any old Type 13."  
  
"Like there's such a thing as 'any old Type 13'," muttered Peter.  
  
"No, guys, you've got to see this…the PKE meter is registering the exact same kind of   
disturbance, about a mile in that direction," Ray pointed. "Do you think it's linked to   
whatever happened to us?"  
  
Egon nodded. "It's not unheard of. Remember what happened when we went to New   
Orleans, and how time was turned back then?"  
  
"You mean the instrument sent us back to wherever it picked up the energy?" interrupted   
Peter.  
  
"Probably. We may be able to rechannel it to create another bridge in the space-time   
continuum, transporting us back to the point when we left."  
  
"How did you figure that out, Egon? No, don't tell me -- it's bound to be something   
weird and esoteric, like it always is. What we've got to do now is get to that protonic   
anomaly, pronto."  
  
"Find the instrument again, and play what you played before? That doesn't sound very   
scientific," said Ray disapprovingly. "Still, if it's our only hope…"  
  
"It is," replied Peter. "Do you think it was coincidence that brought us here? Call it fate,   
or kismet, or karma…we've got to get to that PKE disturbance!"  
  
"Guys…" said Janine, her eyes going very wide behind her glasses. "I think you should   
take a look at this…"  
  
Out of the forest had just come several large, dangerous-looking, peasant-type men.   
What had bothered Janine was their large, dangerous-looking, peasant-type weapons.   
Especially because they were all pointed at the hapless time travelers.  
  
"See! I told you they were 'ere!" shouted one. "Demons, they are -- I seen 'em appear in   
a great flash o' light!"  
  
"Fascinating," whispered Egon. "We appear to have been transported to medieval   
England."  
  
"Look at their clothes…I ain't never seen anything like that."  
  
"Ooh, you're right," said another, gesturing with his knife. "Looks like they've got some   
sorta female demon with 'em."  
  
"And it ain't wearin' much…"  
  
"Must be one o' them evil spirits that tempt *men*…"  
  
"You mean a succubus?"  
  
"No, it 'asn't got wings."  
  
"P'raps it's an alu-demon…"  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
"Lucky we got that exorcist up in Sir Walter's manor, ain't it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But he ain't here now…"  
  
The peasants stopped talking and stared for a moment at them. Then, suddenly, they   
appeared to make up their minds.  
  
"Kill them! Banish them back to the fires 'o hell!"  
  
Egon took charge. "Plan B, everyone."  
  
Ray looked around wildly. "What's Plan B?"  
  
"RUN!" 


	5. Part 05: Acres Wild

Bust the Dead  
Part Five: Acres Wild  
  
  
"Peter, you really shouldn't have done that," said Egon mildly, as he and the others came   
to rest near where the woods gave way to open ground.  
  
The dark-haired man was panting heavily, but still clutched the barrel of his 'weapon'.   
"It scared them off, didn't it? I don't think a forest this big is gonna miss a few lousy   
trees…"  
  
"Yeah, the fire should be out soon," said Janine, her tone becoming even more nasal. "I   
didn't think you could run that fast, Peter."  
  
"Well, I knew we had to get to the center of the psychic disturbance. We just got there a   
little sooner than we expected."  
  
Ray consulted his equipment again. "The disturbance is about a hundred yards away –   
over there." He pointed to a forbidding stone structure. "Sure is spooky, isn't it?"  
  
"It always is," sighed Peter. It was very quiet now, at the edge of the woods after sunset,   
and the only thing they could hear was their own breathing. The sounds of nocturnal   
animals were conspicuously absent.  
  
The small group slowly approached the building. As they got nearer, they could   
gradually make out more detail. It appeared to be some sort of manor or lodge -- it was   
much too small to be called a castle -- constructed of stone and dark-colored wood. It   
would have probably looked very pleasant in the daylight.  
  
"So the instrument's in there?" said Winston.  
  
"The readings are identical to the ones we recorded in the firehouse," said Ray.  
  
"Then let's go get it and get back home. There's a Mets game on tonight that I don't   
want to miss. I hear they're on a winning streak."  
  
"Since when is winning two games a 'streak'?" asked Peter, cautiously opening the   
double doors and stepping inside. The rest followed him -- except for Ray, who was   
several paces ahead, tracing the location of the energy with his PKE meter. The device   
first led them inward, then upward, via a flight of stairs. "Sure is spooky," he murmured,   
repeating the other man's words.  
  
Suddenly Ray stopped. "Guys," he whispered urgently. "It's straight ahead…"  
  
"…and there's light coming from under the doors," finished Winston softly.   
  
"Why is that room lit? This place is deserted," said Peter, still whispering. He crept   
closer. "There's *something* in there…and the meter's going wild."  
  
"Let's see what it is," said Egon, thinking they had hesitated for far too long. He pushed   
the doors wide open.   
  
A shriek came from inside and Egon pulled back quickly. The three other professionals   
pressed forward to see who -- or what -- had made the noise. They poked their heads   
around the door, and looked in.  
  
"You people, what are you doing here, frightening me half to death?" proclaimed an   
indignant voice from within. A man in a multi-colored shirt and brown pants rose from a   
chair, holding a half-finished glass of what appeared to be brandy. "Who are you? We   
told everyone to keep away from here until we were done."  
  
"We?" asked Egon, not seeing anyone else. He felt strangely unsure of himself.  
  
"We," said another voice, this one richer than the first, and sounding more annoyed than   
afraid. Egon nearly jumped as a shadow detached itself from the wall and came into full   
view. This was a black-haired man, clad entirely in black as well: long tunic, pants, and   
high boots. All in black.  
  
"Well…" began Egon, not knowing quite where to start; so he turned to the others for   
help. "Ray…Ray, what are you doing?"  
  
"Egon, get *back*," he said, his eyes very wide. The PKE meter in his hands was   
flashing wildly. With his eyes, Egon followed the line of the location indicator from   
the machine.  
  
It was pointing directly at the pale man in black. 


	6. Part 06: Old Ghosts

Bust the Dead Part Six: Old Ghosts  
  
Egon executed a leap of truly amazing proportions and landed next to Peter. "It wasn't the instrument we were picking up," said Ray, the rather frightening truth suddenly apparent. "It was *him*."  
  
"And we walked right into a Type 13," moaned Peter.  
  
"Don't worry, guys," Ray said, trying to sound brave. He threw down a small black and yellow striped metal box at the feet of the black-clad apparition. "This trap should do the trick."  
  
"Can a trap hold a Type 13?" asked Peter, preparing himself for certain death.  
  
"Don't know -- never had anything stronger than a Type 9."  
  
"Oh good, Ray," said Peter, grimacing as the top of the trap opened and a whirlpool of light poured out. "It's not working, Ray.. "  
  
"Yeah -- strong one, isn't he."  
  
The man in black had watched all this with a bemused expression on his face. He nudged the open trap with the toe of his right boot. "If I am to understand you correctly," he said, "*You* mean to put *me* in *that*?" He emphasized each pronoun, pausing slightly between them.  
  
"Well.. yeah," said Peter, throwing his hands up in the air, not knowing what else to do.  
  
"It's not working," said the man with the multicolored tunic and the brandy. "Perhaps if he lost weight, he might fit."  
  
The dark man looked at him disapprovingly, and then turned his attention back to the time travelers. "This device is intriguing, I must say. Why do you wish to place me inside it?" He tapped it again with his foot. "Is it some sort of machine?"  
  
"Well, kind of," admitted Ray. "It's a ghost trap."  
  
The golden-haired man snickered and took another sip of his brandy, by now assuming that he and his companion had nothing to fear from the newcomers. "A ghost trap, is it? It sounds like something my father -- I mean my unfather -- would have sold. Or bought. Yours doesn't seem to be doing its job. How much did you pay for it?"  
  
"We don't buy them, we make them," answered Ray, who had realized that the Type 13 was, if not completely benign, at least not going to hurt them. The man with him quite clearly knew the other was a ghost, and it didn't seem to bother him. This was enough to encourage Ray.  
  
"Make them?" he asked, his eyes widening. "I've never seen anything like them.. and you've got these other strange things too.. " The man suddenly looked frightened. "Who are you people?"  
  
"I think I'd like to know that as well," his companion said, folding his arms across his chest. "You are obviously not from the village, you are wearing clothing of a type and fabric I have never seen before, and you are carrying devices which a more superstitious type might identify with black magic. Now tell me -- who are you?"  
  
"I'm Ray Stantz," said the short, cherubic man in the tan coverall. "This is Egon Spengler," he indicated the tall man with the nearly white bleached hair and red-framed glasses, "Winston Zeddemore," he pointed at the black man in light blue, "and Peter Venkman."  
  
"Howdy," said Peter. "Now who are you, besides a ghost and his friend?"  
  
The man in black curled his lip up a bit and leaned back. "This is Myal Lemyal, a musician," he said. "And my name is Parl Dro."  
  
"Parl Dro?" yelped Ray. "Parl Dro? Guys, do you know who we're talking to?"  
  
"Yeah, some dead dude named Parl Dro," replied Peter. "So what's all the excitement for?"  
  
"Peter, I sometimes wonder why you ever chose parapsychology as a profession when you refuse to learn more of its history," said Egon, who along with Ray had recognized the name.  
  
"Parl Dro was an exorcist, Peter, one of the greatest of all time," explained Ray, noting that the ghost appeared mildly pleased. "The stuff we do with our proton packs and equipment he could do with his *mind*. He could trance himself by force of will alone and do all kinds of neat stuff like that. I just never realized he continued the practice after he was dead."  
  
"Hey, it pays well," replied Myal. "So you get rid of deadalive too? Funny, I've never heard of you."  
  
"Um, well, you wouldn't have," said Egon, rubbing his chin. "We've got a problem, you see.. "  
  
"Haven't we all," said Myal. "Care to tell us about it? Especially since no-one else we've met has ever realized that the great Parl Dro over there is dead?"  
  
Egon paused. "The reason we've heard of Parl Dro, but you haven't heard of us, is because we don't exist. At least not yet. We're from the future -- we haven't been born yet."  
  
Myal looked confused and turned to Dro, who merely narrowed his eyes and said, "Go on."  
  
"We're actually from the twentieth century. We're also -- I guess you could call us exorcists, although we do handle more varieties of psychic phenomena than ghosts. That's what we were doing when we were shot back into the past.. we were investigating an unusual musical instrument that had an amazing amount of supernatural energy tied to it," said Ray. "Peter played something on it and we ended up here. Egon says that if we re- create what happened before, it might be able to get us home. We picked up the same energy readings coming from this place, so we assumed the instrument was here."  
  
Myal looked at them skeptically, unsure of what to believe. He knew that they were not natives of this area, and that their story was so wild it must might be true.. for who would have thought to make up something as outlandish as that?  
  
"This 'unusual' instrument.. how unusual was it? Describe it to me."  
  
"It had two necks with strings that crossed each other," said Ray. "And it had a mouthpiece too; I think it was ivory. Um, let me see.. there were little things inlaid in the wood, and the strap holding it was made out of leather."  
  
"That sounds a lot like mine," said Myal thoughtfully.  
  
"As if it could be anyone else's," replied Dro. "I believe their story."  
  
"I do too," said Myal. "And it would make a great song. Picture this -- four people suddenly thrust back into the mists of time, their only means of escape a handsome, heroic, and immensely talented musician.. "  
  
"Not four people," corrected Egon.  
  
"How many besides you?" asked Myal, undaunted by the prospect of adding in more to the song.  
  
"Well, there's Janine and.. maybe it'll be easier if we bring them in here. Janine, Slimer," called Peter. "That's Janine," he said as she entered the room.  
  
"Is it safe to come in now?" asked Janine. "I heard voices.. "  
  
Just then Myal caught sight of Slimer. "Aaghh! It's a giant green potato with teeth!" he cried.  
  
"No, that's just Slimer," said Peter, highly amused at Myal's reaction. "He's not pretty, but he *is* harmless. Just don't let him.. oh well," he finished, seeing he was too late.  
  
"Yecch," said Myal, wiping off his hand on one of the window's heavy orange curtains. Slimer had evidently thought it would be polite to shake hands, and now extended one to Parl Dro, who took a step backward and shook his head. Peter laughed.  
  
By this time, Myal had recovered his dignity and was now eyeing Janine appreciatively. "Hello, my dear," he said, bowing. "My name is Myal Lemyal, and I am a musician of the highest order. How may I serve you?"  
  
Janine was unimpressed. "You can start by introducing me to your friend over there," she said, going up to the exorcist. "My name is Janine Melnitz.. what's yours?"  
  
The ghost in black executed a sweeping bow which Myal thought extremely showy (and totally unnecessary). "Parl Dro, at your service," he smiled. Myal rolled his eyes and thought to himself that most of the women he'd met had very bad taste when it came to men.  
  
"Ooh," Janine giggled. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dro."  
  
"No need to be so formal, my dear."  
  
Myal looked helplessly at the others. "He always does this to me, you know. And at his age, too -- you'd never think that he was my *father*, would you?" he said, raising his voice a bit to be sure the attractive young woman in the revealing outfit heard him. If she did, she didn't acknowledge it. "I can't win," complained the musician.  
  
"He's your *father*?" asked Ray.  
  
"There was never any data on Parl Dro referring to a son," said Egon. "Fascinating."  
  
"I'll explain it to you later," Myal replied morosely.  
  
"Usually she's after Egon," whispered Peter. "I guess she likes that type."  
  
Egon cleared his throat. "Janine," he said. "Parl Dro is an exorcist, and it was Myal's instrument that brought us here. With their help we should be able to get back to New York. And incidentally, Parl Dro, the man you're talking to, is dead."  
  
Janine raised an eyebrow. "A dead exorcist?"  
  
"Yeah," said Peter. "Talk about a conflict of interests."  
  
"You're telling me," said Myal.  
  
"So it was your two-necked guitar?" she asked, looking at him. "Did they tell you what we need to use it for? Will you help us?"  
  
"I'd be glad to help you," said Myal, looking a little nervous. "But I'm afraid there's a slight problem.. "  
  
"What kind of problem? The instrument's yours, isn't it?"  
  
"Well yes, in a manner of speaking.. but the truth is I can't help you now."  
  
"Why not?" demanded Peter.  
  
Myal picked up a leather bag that had been resting on one of the chairs. He opened it and withdrew several pieces of wood -- the bodies of a guitar and a mandolin. "I'm sorry," he said, "but the first one was smashed to bits and the new one isn't finished yet. I still have to put the two soundboxes together, and I need better pegs for the strings, and I haven't even got a reed yet. I'm really sorry." 


	7. Part 07: Later, That Same Evening

Bust the Dead Part Seven: Later, That Same Evening  
  
"Don't worry about it," said Peter. "We could all use a vacation anyway. How long will it take you to finish it?"  
  
"If I had the rest of the parts I needed, I should be able to have it done in a week."  
  
"Hey, no problem," Peter said, smiling. "We can wait a week, can't we?"  
  
"Sure," replied Ray amiably. "And I want to hear all about what you guys do."  
  
"Only if you tell us about yourselves too; especially you, Janine. Do all women in the twentieth century wear such short -- I mean interesting -- articles of clothing?"  
  
"What were you doing in this place?" interrupted Ray before their secretary could respond. Knowing Janine, she might seriously injure the man.  
  
"We were here to dispel a deadalive -- in your terms, a ghost," replied Parl Dro. "This manor belongs to a minor nobleman who just inherited this land and its holdings. He'd heard the rumors that there were deadalive here, and-"  
  
"And we just happened to be in the area," finished Myal. "Sir Walter recognized Parl -- thanks to a few well-dropped hints -- and asked him if he could exorcise the spirit. We accepted.. for a modest fee, of course."  
  
"Of course," said Parl, leaning back in his chair. "My 'apprentice' believes that I did not ask for enough money for the task."  
  
"You didn't."  
  
"The ghost could barely manifest itself beyond transparency. Besides, he wanted to leave. He showed us where the link was himself."  
  
"You still should have asked for more," said Myal sullenly, but with a twinkle in his eye. "So why don't you people tell us about what *you* do. Maybe you could pick up a few things, 'eh Dad?" he grinned cheekily.  
  
"There are times when I have serious difficulties believing that you are my son. This is one of those times.. "  
  
During the banter between Parl and Myal, Myal and Janine, and Peter and everybody, each group managed to learn a good deal of information about the other. There were somewhat condensed explanations ("He's really my father, really.") of their situations ("You call yourselves what?"), and their professions ("You 'bust' them. I.. see."). The exorcist did not take very well to the concept of the Containment Unit until Egon explained that most of what they dealt with were not actual ghosts, but other types of supernatural beings, and that they were only called in when these beings were obviously destructive in nature. Myal had listened to this and decided he would rather question Janine about the length of her skirt some more when there came a sudden pounding on the outside door of the manor.  
  
"Myal, go answer the door," said Parl.  
  
The musician grumbled, thwarted again in his attempt to gain Janine's interest. "I don't see why I should have to. Why don't you? That leg of yours shouldn't hurt anymore, now that you know you're a ghost. But I'll do it anyway, out of the goodness of my heart." With that, he hauled himself out of the chair. The exorcist smiled indulgently at him and made shooing motions with his hands.  
  
Several minutes later, Myal came hurrying back to the room. His face was very pale. "Parl.. " he began, trying to catch his breath. "Those villagers that saw Janine and the others.. they followed them here. They think that the 'demons' have taken over the manor and we can't get rid of them."  
  
Parl Dro stood up. "We shall have to see about that. I'll explain that these people are foreigners, travelers who have lost their way, and we're letting them stay here for the night -- out of the goodness of our hearts." He walked out of the room  
  
"Oh, the poor man, he's limping," said Janine in sympathy. "What happened to him?"  
  
"He got his leg chopped off by my mother's husband, after it was nearly chewed off by a deadalive," said Myal. "I think it's out of pure stubbornness that he still limps." He cast a nervous look towards the door. "I just hope he can talk our way out of what's downstairs."  
  
"Do you think he can?" asked Ray.  
  
"If anyone can, it would be him. But even his silver tongue might not do the trick this time."  
  
The group heard him coming up the stairs soon after that, his distinctive gait telling them that it was indeed him and not one of the men from the village. He looked as if things had not gone well.  
  
"What happened? Did they believe you?" asked Myal anxiously.  
  
"They believe," he said, pausing for a second, "that we both have been possessed by the evil spirits here, and that we are not responsible for our actions. They said they are going to free us by destroying the manor -- along with everything and everyone in it -- which they presume will dispel the spirits. They're planning to come back at dawn."  
  
"How will they try to destroy the manor?" Winston asked.  
  
"Burn it down, I suppose," said the exorcist. "But not if they see the demons leave."  
  
"Oh wonderful," moaned Peter. "How do we do that? We can't just disappear in a puff of smoke."  
  
"You could," said Parl, coming over to stand beside his son, "if the instrument is done by then."  
  
"Oh no," said the golden-haired man. "Do you know what it would take to finish it by morning? I'd have to work all night, non-stop."  
  
"Would you rather see the manor burned down, your newfound friends killed, and yourself at the mercy of the villagers' attempts at exorcism?"  
  
"Well, when you put it that way.. " he said doubtfully. "But I still need new pegs and a reed.. oh, I suppose I could use the old pegs for now. I've got all the other parts, and I've got the tools with me too."  
  
"Splendid. I shall provide you with the reed."  
  
"How?" asked Ray.  
  
Parl Dro smiled. "One of the advantages of this state of being is the ability to be.. unobtrusive." With that, he disappeared.  
  
Myal was still for a moment, watching something the others couldn't see. "He's gone," he said. "I guess he's off to the village to find something suitable."  
  
"We'll do anything we can to help you in the construction," said Egon.  
  
"I hope we can pull this off," muttered Peter. "Or else we're gonna die before we were even born." 


	8. Part 08: Minstrel in the Gallery

Bust the Dead Part Eight: Minstrel in the Gallery  
  
Myal began his task.  
  
The others sat at the table around him, watching the musician work, but it was very late and they were all struggling not to fall asleep. "We can at least stay up with you," insisted Egon. Myal nodded, and to keep everyone (including himself) awake, he told stories of his adventures and also gave a more detailed account of his first meeting with Parl Dro. He didn't quite understand Peter's comment that there was probably a great disco in Ghyste Mortua called 'Studio 666', but he did generously return the other man's wallet, which he had stolen from him several hours before.  
  
"Y'know," said Peter, putting his wallet back into his pocket, "I think Parl should get a new tailor. I mean, black all the time gets to be depressing after a while. We could take him back to Greenwich Village, and get him fixed up real nice."  
  
"Yeah Peter, I'm sure he'd like that," snorted Janine.  
  
"Why not?" he asked, grinning. "We could get him some jams and a Hawaiian shirt. Something to brighten things up."  
  
"I think he looks fine the way he is," said Janine. "And he told me that I have lovely auburn hair."  
  
Myal paled noticeably. "But he's my father," he sputtered.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So he's *dead*."  
  
"Nobody's perfect," Janine said smugly.  
  
"But really," continued Peter, "someone should introduce him to the joys of multichromatic clothing. Unless it's just that everyone who's dead likes to wear black. Like your old girlfriend, Ray."  
  
"She wasn't my girlfriend," he protested weakly.  
  
"Is there a story behind this?" asked Myal, who had just finished fitting the two soundboxes together.  
  
"I thought we agreed-"  
  
"But this time it really does pertain to the case, doesn't it Egon -- she registered as a Type 13 too," added Winston.  
  
"True," Egon said. "But she wasn't exactly the same as Parl Dro."  
  
"You bet she wasn't," said Peter, winking at Ray. "You see, Myal, one time Ray over there met this girl dressed all in black, just like your father. Admittedly it was a black miniskirt, but you get the picture." Myal nodded enthusiastically. "Same idea, right? They both like black. Anyway, she and Ray went out a few times, and he kept telling us about this wonderful girl that he'd met. One day he brought her back to meet us, this little girl in black with a big silver ankh pendant, and we just happened to have our PKE meters on. The readings went off the scale. She was a ghost, sort of, and she registered higher than anything we'd ever seen. Until now."  
  
"Why did you say she was 'sort of' a ghost?" questioned Myal, fitting a peg into place.  
  
"Because she wasn't really a ghost -- she wasn't a human who'd died. Whatever kind of entity she was, she had always been that way. She knew who we were, but she didn't realize she would register on our PKE meters."  
  
"Was she completely solid, like Parl?"  
  
"I wouldn't know. Was she completely solid, Ray?"  
  
"Are you ever going to let up on me about that?" sighed the other man.  
  
"Only teasing, Ray. How ya doin', Myal?"  
  
"All I need now is the reed," he announced proudly. He took the nearly completed instrument in his hands and began to play, as he had longed to do since the original had been destroyed on the hill at the Ghyste.  
  
The others sat very still and listened. "Myal, that was beautiful," whispered Janine, after he'd finished.  
  
"It was indeed," said Parl Dro, appearing suddenly beside them. He held out something to his son. "Will this do?"  
  
Myal examined it and smiled happily. "It's perfect. Thank you."  
  
"You'd better hurry. The villagers are gathering on the outskirts of town, with lit torches."  
  
"Lovely," said Peter. Myal winced and hurriedly prepared the reed, as Egon and Parl made their plans. Parl would perform an 'exorcism' out in the clearing, while Myal would hide nearby waiting for his cue to play. Peter had taught him the two lines of music earlier, and he was ready.  
  
"There," said Myal wearily, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. "It's finished."  
  
"And just in time, too," remarked Parl. "There's noise coming from outside. It's almost dawn; we should get to our positions."  
  
"Problem," said Egon, aiming his PKE meter at the instrument and then at the exorcist. "The only protonic anomaly in this room is you."  
  
"What?" yelped Peter. "We haven't come this far to be stopped now! If this thing doesn't have any energy in it, we won't be able to get home and then we're gonna be torched by those crazy.. hold on, I think I'm getting an idea," he said, a crafty look coming into his eyes. "Maybe we can use our equipment to channel some of Parl's psychokinetic energy into the instrument."  
  
"It's certainly worth a shot," said Ray.  
  
"Hurry, guys," urged Janine, looking nervously out the window. "Those people out there don't look very friendly."  
  
"But the original energy in that thing when we found it read as Type 13," protested Winston. "That's what Parl is -- what'll the transfer do to him?"  
  
"We don't need all his energy," said Egon. "But it would probably weaken him tremendously. I don't know if he would be strong enough afterwards to- "  
  
"Use some of mine," Myal interjected, then saw the look the exorcist was giving him. "You've done it before."  
  
"Myal, I will *not* feed off you again. The amount I would have to draw from you could kill you."  
  
"Egon, would it kill me? Would he have to take that much?"  
  
Egon shook his head. "There's no way to tell. Even so, you might not be able to play."  
  
"Me, not be able to play?" he said indignantly. "Don't be absurd! And Parl, don't you argue with me. You can't do this on your own. I'm your son -- let me help you."  
  
The older man seemed to realize then that any further protest would be ignored. "As you wish," he said mildly, and laid his hands on Myal's shoulders. The others watched in fascination as the lifeforce flowed from one man to the other. The exorcist caught Myal as he fell forward, and eased him down into a chair. "Rest."  
  
"You don't have to tell me twice," he mumbled. "I've gotta play, though."  
  
"Soon, Myal," he said, and turned to the others. "Egon, I'm ready."  
  
"Just put your hands on this and relax; let the machine do the work."  
  
It took several minutes to complete the transfer, and when it was over Parl Dro was visibly less solid than he had been. Myal, watching from his chair as his strength returned, marveled that he had never seen the other so insubstantial. Dro was too good at the impersonation of life to ever be seen as transparent.  
  
Egon held the meter over the instrument. "It worked," he said, his usual restraint not quite in place. "Are you two ready?"  
  
Myal nodded. Parl straightened up, narrowed his eyes, and suddenly appeared fully solid. "How do I look?" he asked, smiling.  
  
"Wonderful," said Janine.  
  
"Then let's party!" Peter cried. 


	9. Part 09: Mayhem, Maybe

Bust the Dead Part Nine: Mayhem, Maybe  
  
"People," announced Parl Dro, in his most theatrical voice. "I bring before you these evil spirits to be banished. It will be difficult, even for an exorcist of my abilities, and I ask all of you to help me by concentrating on sending them back to the place from whence they came. Will you do that?"  
  
A loud cheer rose from the crowd in affirmation. "He'll be asking them to believe in Tinkerbell next," muttered Winston.  
  
"Thank you, my friends," called Dro. "I shall begin."  
  
"He's actually enjoying this," whispered Peter, folding his arms and edging back towards the bonfire that Dro had told the townspeople was necessary for the exorcism. In point of fact, it was merely a handy focus for their attention, as well as something to burn besides the manor and those who had been inside it.  
  
"No wonder he's enjoying it," chuckled Ray. "He's got them eating out of his hand."  
  
"It's almost time," Egon whispered. "I hope Myal's ready." He peered at the trees nearby, knowing that the minstrel was hidden somewhere within. Fortunately, the fire also kept the crowd's attention away from the woods.  
  
"And so," said Parl, going into what Winston had told him was called a Big Finish. "I cast this link upon the flames, and in doing so I cast the demons back into the fiery pit of hell.. now!" He lobbed a small sack into the bonfire, which had been filled with what Peter had described as a Molotov Cocktail. The flames leapt twice their height into the air, causing the villagers to jump back. They were so shocked that they never even heard the first strains of Karn Evil 9.  
  
"The demons.. they're gone!" cried someone as the smoke cleared.  
  
"Oh thank you, Parl Dro," somebody else said as they clustered around the man, to congratulate him on his valiant and noble deed.  
  
Myal chose that moment to come out of the forest. "You people there, help me put this fire out," he called imperiously. "Parl Dro has gotten rid of your demons for you; we can't have him burned to a crisp afterwards." The villagers nodded guiltily. "Now," continued Myal, rubbing his hands together. "About our fee.. "  
  
***  
  
"Ouch!" yelped Janine, landing on top of Peter. "Oh Egon, did I hurt you?"  
  
"Did you hurt *him*?" echoed Peter. "Your stiletto heels puncture my lungs and you ask Egon if you hurt *him*? That's it, I've had enough. I've been chased by peasants, insulted by a ghost, and nearly burned alive. I've had it! I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed!" At this point the phone rang, and Ray staggered over to answer it. Peter continued ranting. "And I don't want any of you waking me up for anything. Have you got that? Not anything, not even if I've just been nominated for the Nobel Prize in Parapsychology! And -- and -- and that little sneak stole my wallet again!" he yelled. "What if it survives, and someone finds it? I can see it now -- 'Medieval Mastercard Baffles the World's Top Scientists: Peter Venkman Being Sought for Inquiry'.. "  
  
"Quiet, Peter!" said Ray excitedly. "It's Disneyworld!"  
  
"Disneyworld?" he repeated. "What could possibly go wrong at Disneyworld? I suppose the Haunted House is really haunted, right?"  
  
"Gee, Peter, how did you know?" Ray asked. "Don't worry, sir, we'll be there as soon as possible." He hung up. "Guys, you should hear what's going on in the Hall of Presidents."  
  
"I'm gonna need some coffee," Peter moaned. "Lots and lots of coffee.. " 


End file.
